


Day 8: Ouija

by ZephyrOfAllTrades



Series: Spooky Time Stories [8]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Demon Crowley (Good Omens), F/M, Human Aziraphale (Good Omens), M/M, They're all friends here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-07
Updated: 2020-11-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:28:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27427207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZephyrOfAllTrades/pseuds/ZephyrOfAllTrades
Summary: Aziraphale laughs at their efforts to contact a demon, until he was left alone to deal with one....Nothing truly scary happens. Unless dying of embarrassment counts. 😁
Relationships: Anathema Device & Newton Pulsifer, Anathema Device/Newton Pulsifer, Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Spooky Time Stories [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1983229
Comments: 5
Kudos: 66
Collections: Racket’s 13 Days of Halloween





	Day 8: Ouija

Aziraphale was trying his hardest to keep his snickers at bay. He and his friends had been hunched over the table for more than an hour now and not one of the supernatural entities they have been trying to contact had answered.

He looked down at the Ouija board splayed between them and watched with a bemused smile as their fingers followed the planchette to trace a path from one letter to the next.

He snorted when it gave them a N-G-K from their question of whether the demon would be willing to forge a connection with one of them. Anathema and Newt frowned sending him into a fit of giggles. Despite Anathema’s warnings, he took his hand off the board to hide his laughter. With a sigh, the occultist and her boyfriend closed the Ouija session.

“Forgive me,” Aziraphale panted, carding a hand through his blonde curls as he tried to get his breathing under control.

“You know, someday we might actually get a demon in here and then you’ll be sorry for not following proper procedures,” Anathema grumbled as Newt cleared the table and relit the room’s lights. Finally composing himself, the blonde stood to help blow out the candles around them.

“I didn’t think there was a presence tonight, Ana,” Newt smiled at them as he came back with cups and a pot of tea from his own little kitchen. Aziraphale had long contemplated, and thanked, his luck at finding true friendship from a book club - they have so little in common besides the love of the written word and yet he found himself nestled into a comfortable seat with two of the most understanding people he knew. He smiled sheepishly at the occultist, giving him an exasperated, yet fond smile.

“I’m not as confident as you, Newt. It was weak but I knew there was one. But I suppose we’ll just have to do this again sometime and finally make Aziraphale accept that this is all more than a hobbyist’s mumbo-jumbo.”

“I’d be delighted to host you again,” piped in the blonde. “I just couldn’t take it seriously this time. I mean, I don’t even know how to enunciate 'NGK' in English,” he smirked.

“You can’t expect everyone, including demons to be as fluent in the language as you, you know,” Newt teased and they all laughed once more.

The warm conversations and playful banter went on until the couple finally stood to say goodbye, leaving Aziraphale in his flat to tidy up what else there was left from the visit.

It was only as he settled into his own bed did the feeling of ‘something-not-quite-right’ permeated his whole being. He tried to sleep but a nagging feeling that something else was in the room with him - watching. He kept his eyes closed and muttered under his breath as curiosity and the tiniest flickering of fear had him cracking open an eye to squint at the darkness surrounding the bed.

He saw a darker patch of black move in his periphery but found nothing there as he craned his neck to look closer. Then somewhere from the hall, he heard a book thump to the floor. Concern for his prints, he threw off his blankets and ran to out to check his many bookshelves.

He relaxed when he found none of his volumes had fallen off their spots but went rigid once more when he realized that his collection had been rearranged. Alphabetically. Not like his own chaotic personal system. He gulped and tiptoed to the living room. There was no one there, nor in the tiny kitchen and bathroom. He was, it appeared, alone in his flat. But what of the rearranged books?

“Been a while since I’ve seen a house without a telly,” came a voice from behind him. Aziraphale yelped and turned to find no one. He groped for a weapon but could only snatch a letter opener from one of his hall tables.

“Who’s there? What do you want?” he called shakily.

“Whoa, mate, you’d take an eye out with that,” came the same voice from somewhere to his left.

“Show yourself!” he said a little more forcefully.

There was a beat and then a plume of smoke manifested before him. Aziraphale blinked at the apparition, his mind rejecting whatever it was he was seeing, but his heart hammered in his chest and his body was rigging itself to either run off or fight.

“I’m sorry about the books,” the dark, coiling mass said. It was solidifying, Azirapale noticed. He said nothing as it pulsed and twisted and finally settle into the form of a tall, lanky, red-head, whose gender he was unavailable to properly identify. “I’ll put it all back the way they were if you want, I just got bored ‘s all,” they pouted.

“Who, or what, are you?” he asked with interest, he was shocked, mind reeling until he concluded he was dreaming. He relaxed then, dropping his weapon, opting to let the scenes flow rather than interrupt such a fantastical manifestation.

“The name’s Crowley. I’m a demon,” they said with a grin. “The very one you were trying to contact this evening."

“Oh? Why haven’t you shown yourself or answered our questions properly, then?” the blonde queried. The demon blushed and Aziraphale smiled, silently praising his imagination to have conjured such a fetching sight.

“Dunno,” they shrugged. “Based on past experience, demons don’t get along well with humans.”

“I’m sure Anathema would love to talk to you and Newt could be persuaded so long as you keep your current human form,” he beamed at them. He had been shy once, and couldn’t have meet his friends if he hadn’t screwed up the courage to say hello to them. This demon, figment of imagination or not, could use a little nudge, he thought.

“D’you think so?” the red-head mumbled, scratching the back of their neck. “They seemed nice…”

“Just them?” Aziraphale teased. The demon sputtered.

“You’re nice too!” they rushed to say. “And gentle. And soft. Gnh. Not that soft is bad. I like soft. Soft is you. I like you. I -” their eyes grew wide and Aziraphale noticed how much the orbs resembled that of a snake. “Yeah, er, I-I’ll just shut up now,” the demon mumbled, looking down at their feet.

“Please don’t apologize.” the blonde soothed. “I’m quite flattered, really.” Noticing the demon's palpable embarrassment, he decided to help ease their suffering. “I can ring them up and introduce you to them tomorrow. They’d be thrilled. As for tonight, though, I’m not entirely certain as to how demons go about their business, but I would like to try and sleep for a bit if it’s alright with you,” he let himself yawn for a more thorough effect. “I’ll see you in the morning?”

Finally, the demon looked up and gave him a small grin, “Yeah. Tomorrow.”

“Goodnight, Crowley.”

“Goodnight, angel,” he heard as he turned back to his room. It sounded too breathy he might not have heard right, but decided from asking. He found himself rather tuckered out, it seemed.

The blonde returned to his room barely registering the soft thumps of books being once more reshuffled. The next day had him re-evaluating all Anathema’s lectures when he espied the red-head merrily making themself a cup of coffee the next morning. But he couldn’t very well go back on a promise, even if he had believed he was dreaming. Especially if the same demon had looked so radiantly happy when he joined them for a cuppa at his own little kitchen table.

**Author's Note:**

> Can I count this as a meet-cute? Ngk.
> 
> You could also read this on my Tumblr.


End file.
